Age of Innocence
by boasamishipper
Summary: "There are things in my life I don't want to talk about." At nine, Bolin had been arrested and dragged into an orphanage, whose grimy walls held greasy smiles and curious hands, where the children lost all sense of virtue. Preseries AU.
1. The Night When Everything Changed

"**There are things in my life I don't want to talk about." At nine, Bolin had been arrested and dragged into an orphanage, whose grimy walls held greasy smiles and curious hands, where the children lost all sense of virtue. Preseries AU.**

**My idea for this fic actually started from a line in my friend Bolinlover123's fic Quintessence. As my plot bunnies fired, I asked her whether or not I could have her permission to write this, and she graciously allowed it. She also had the idea to connect Age of Innocence with the canon storyline I have going in my WIP fic, The Other Side of Me. After giving her suggestion some thought, I figured out a way to make it work. To understand who Karu is, I strongly suggest reading my oneshot The Weighted Life before continuing on with Age of Innocence.**

**Warning: There will be child abuse, gang violence, mild language and other triggering themes throughout this, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't feel obligated to read on. I will take no offense whatsoever.**

**B, this one's for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Korra, but I do own my original characters.**

Age of Innocence by boasamishipper

_So we can only get one chance, can we take it?  
>And we only got one life, can't exchange it<br>Can we hold on to what we have, don't replace it  
>The age of innocence is fading like an old dream<em>

_A life of petty crime gets punished with a holiday  
>The victims' mind are scarred for life most everyday<br>Assailants know just how much further they can go  
>They know the laws are soft, conviction chances low<em>

_Iron Maiden "Age of Innocence"_

Fate is a funny thing.

She is in charge of every occurrence, every happenstance, every spilled bottle of milk and chance meeting. She makes sure the right people meet at the right places, even if it doesn't make sense at the time.

She'd been called a cruel bitch and worse on every occasion, and she'd be the first to admit that in most of these incidents that an insult was well warranted. In the case when a family of four had been severed in half, she'd been insulted through thick and thin by the two boys. But good blossoms from the bad, and they were rescued nearly eight years later.

_Salvation is at the end of every _situation, she likes to say. _The problem was how much evil you had to trudge through to get there._

She keeps herself sane by thinking that good will come out of every bad situation, and tries to make it so. But she doesn't always have a say in life changing, earthshattering events. She holds true because she always has, not because she always will.

_When things are difficult, when things are bad, when things are downright bleak, you just have to hang in there_, she says.

So Fate watches from above, trying to assist when she can and when she is needed.

It's the least she can do, after all.

…

Fate is a funny thing.

(And you can't run away from her, no matter how hard you try.)

(*) (*)

**160 AG**

Karu spits on the ground as a family of four walks by the alleyway that he's been occupying for a few months. He gets a thrill in his gut as the mother shoots him a dirty look, wrapping her arm around a boy who looks around five or six years old…and then the good feeling is gone as the father leans over and gives the mother a kiss on her forehead that practically has her swooning before they continue on.

He hates them. He doesn't even know them, but he hates them.

He knows their type. The proud, hard-working daddy; the beautiful, loving momma, and the annoying two drool machines otherwise known as children. He's willing to bet that the father works at a power plant, that the mother is a housewife—all of which is common in a city as diverse as this. The drool machines are probably the 'best of friends', and they all probably live in a nicely-furnished apartment in the outskirts of the city with a picket fence, nice neighbors and a puppy.

Their situation reminds him all too much of what he can't have—of what was stolen from him. The two boys remind him of his son, and the mom reminds him of his wife, his YinLi.

_YinLi._ Just the name of his wife makes his insides twitch, his throat dry up and his hand jerks, causing the cigarette that he'd been smoking to drop to the sidewalk. YinLi. Kind and caring. YinLi, with her light brown skin and blue eyes. The blue eyes that his son inherited.

Just thinking about Xin makes him want to spit fire, as is his nature. For years he'd barely been able to stomach the sight of his offspring—Karu hated every bit of him, every oxymoronic bit of him. What with his blue eyes and lightly tanned skin and YinLi's heritage, the chances of Xin inheriting his skills were next to nothing.

And then Xin had burnt down half the apartment on his seventh birthday, earning a hard slap on the back from him and praise from YinLi like their son had achieved nirvana.

_Spirits, I need a drink. A long, long drink._ But no, he'd been sober for a year now—he'd been stone cold sober ever since YinLi and Xin had run away like pussies in the middle of the night. More specifically, he'd been sober since his source of money to buy cactus juice and smoke joints with Jiao and Feng had suddenly run dry, like a puddle in the desert.

He wants a drink badly.

Goddamnit, he needs one right at that second. He needs his hands to stop trembling, he needs to feel content and fuzzy, he needs his one way ticket into a blurry oblivion…

"Fuck you!" he shouts to the night sky, which is surely taunting him somehow with its hundreds of stars. A man passing by gives him a funny look, and Karu flips him off. "Yeah, that's right, you keep walking," he growls. "Tough piece of chicken shit." And that's the only insult his mind can come up with at the moment, so he shuts up while the man yells at him in a Fire Nation accent that he can't quite decipher.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the same family from before exit an ice cream shop, their faces smeared with chocolate syrup. If he squints, he can _just_ make out a few yuans sticking out of the mother's purse. His mouth waters, because that's just enough to get him a whiskey at Asoka's bar.

Shoving the man aside with an irritated "Get the fuck outta my way", he follows the family. His blood boils once he gets close enough to hear their laughter. It sounds so melodious and genuine—and it takes every ounce of willpower he has left to not keel over and vomit in disgust.

"San, darling," the woman says sweetly, and she ruffles both of the boys' hair. The youngest one giggles innocently. "When these little rugrats of ours are going to be running around the house on a sugar high for the next four hours, let me remind you that I'm going to bed early."

The man—San—grins sheepishly at her, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Aw, Hana, you like them all riled up, don't you? They're cuter that way."

The older of the two boys laughs, jumping up and down happily. San picks him up and twirls him around while the son shrieks, "Poppa, again! Do it again!" A red scarf is wrapped around the kid's neck, much too big to be his own. _Probably San's, then._

"They get this from you, you know," Hana deadpans, but from Karu's viewpoint, she's smiling just as wide as her kids and husband. "Come here, Bolin, want to spend some time with your favorite momma?"

Bolin—the other kid—is laughing so hard that tears of mirth are pouring down his small, chubby face. "You're my _only_ momma, Momma!" Hana picks him up, and he nuzzles against her face. Karu wonders why Hana doesn't care that her white shirt is smeared with chocolate and something orange that he can't identify. He would if he was in her position. "I love you, Momma."

"I love you too, my little darling," she whispers back to him. Karu can remember YinLi saying those exact words to Xin on more than one occasion. In the back of his mind, he wonders if he'd ever said anything like that to Xin before. But what had the little brat done to deserve his love anyways? What had this Bolin kid ever done to deserve Hana's love anyways? _All that kids did_, he concludes, _was take well-earned yuans from their parents' pockets. Xin had done it too. All that cash I could've spent on joints and drinks, and I had to give him nicer clothes because 'the children at school might tease him, babe'._ He scoffs in disgust.

By now, he and the family of four are the only ones left on the street. _It's now or never,_ Karu thinks, and then his conscience decides to catch up with him. _You really going to mug them? Look at their clothes. This ice cream was probably a special treat._

But he quells the nagging voice inside his head—mostly because it sounds like YinLi, and he's used to tuning out her rightous babbling.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his dark brown jacket, and the family whirled around. He can see the fear in San and Hana's eyes clear as day, along with the frightened innocence in Bolin and the other kid's eyes as their parents put them back on the ground. "Look at what we have here. A happy little family, out on a happy little stroll."

"Hi!" says the other kid, obviously not understanding what's going on. San attempts to shush him. "My name's Mako. What's your name?"

"Shut up, you little shit," he growls, spitting a wad of tobacco-flavored sputum on the sidewalk. The boy—Mako—gasps and shrinks back against his brother, muttering something about bad words. Karu almost laughs—is the little punk going to wash out his mouth with soap now?

San is shaking his head so fervently that Karu thinks it'll fly clean off his shoulders if the man isn't careful. "What do you want?" he asks, trying to sound brave. "Leave us alone."

"What do I want?" Karu repeats. "I want _money._ Don't even try to tell me you don't have any. I know you do. I'll give you ten seconds to give me the entire contents of your purse, lady."

"Or else what?" she asks, sticking her nose up in the air. Her hand is clamped on Bolin's so tightly that the kid is moaning. "What will you do?"

Karu grins, smacking his hands together. "You didn't let me finish, my dear woman. I said I'll give you ten seconds to give me the entire contents of your purse, or else I'll make sure that attempted is taken off the attempted murder charge." He likes that line a lot. Maybe he'll use it more in the future if he gets results as quick as this time around.

Hana, without a moment's hesitation, tosses him her purse, taking two quick steps backwards as she does it. Mako and Bolin shrink against their father, who looks like he's scared shitless but is trying to remain calm for the sake of his family. "Here," she says shortly as Karu goes through the purse, counting the yuans.

Wait a minute. Six yuans? That was it?

He goes through the bills one more time to make sure.

Nope, still six.

That couldn't be right—it wasn't enough! No self-respecting bar or liquor store would give him alcohol with only six yuans. He growls under his breath. "Six yuans?" he yells, his left hand ablaze with crackling orange flames. It vaguely registers in the back of his mind that Bolin and Mako are crying, but he's too pissed to care. "Is this your idea of a joke, you bitch? Why would you carry only six yuans in this piece of shit at all times?"

"Because that's all we have!" San snarls, taking an angry step forward. "Now get the hell away from my family, you bastard!"

It almost sounds impressive, and Karu would've left had he not been so angry. "No," he says simply. "I don't think I will." Extinguishing his fire, he hurls a fist at Hana's face, and her scream is loud as she collapses to the ground, blood on her lips.

"Don't you touch my wife, you son of a bitch!" San shouts, stamping his foot on the ground and thrusting his hand forward as a chunk of rock flies toward his head. Karu barely manages to duck in time before sending a wave of flames toward San, whose shirt sleeve catches on fire. He screams as he whacks his arm against the brick wall, and the fire goes out.

"Mako!" San yells. "Take your brother and run! Go!"

Mako whimpers. "But Poppa—"

"Honey, listen to me," Hana says, sliding closer to Mako and Bolin as Karu dukes it out with San. "Poppa and I will be alright. Please, darling, I need you to be a big boy for me and run as fast as you can, okay? Mako will be right behind you."

Fat tears pour down both of the boys' faces. "O-okay, Momma!"

"Oh, no!" Karu shouts. "Uh, uh, no one is going anywhere! Get back here, you little shits!" He moves forward, intending to throw a fireball at the two kids when San suddenly tackles him from behind and both of them fall to the ground.

"Hana, go, get out of here now!" San screams, but Hana shakes her head and gets into a fighting stance.

Karu's lip curls. "You've got spunk, you two," he mutters. "But it ain't good enough. You either hustle or get hustled, you know!" Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bolin and Mako peering from around a street corner. _This is it. _"Say goodnight," he tells Hana and San before channeling his inner rage and sending a wave of orange flames at the two of them. The mother and father are soon enveloped in a cloud of fire, and the scent of burning flesh fills the air, like a thousand people smoking cigars all at once. They're screaming and screaming and screaming until…

Until suddenly their charred, blackened bodies fall against the brick wall with a loud thud, like a crack of thunder on an otherwise still night. And then there's silence, such a loud silence that it almost makes Karu's ears bleed. He's panting, and so are the two boys, when a primal scream suddenly splits the air in half, startling him.

"_NO_!" Mako howls. "Momma! Poppa! _Nooooooooo_!"

Karu cackles, because this makes him feel so damn good. "I told you you'd pay, you little shit!" Then he pauses. "And if you tell anybody, I'll track you down, you and your brother, and I'll put two bullets through your heads!"

The little boy caves in on himself, sobbing and curls up into a ball between Hana and San's bodies. They're so blackened and smeared with soot that Karu can't even tell who is who anymore. Bolin is crying and screeching bloody murder, yelling, "Momma! Poppa! Wake up, wake up, you gotta _wake up!"_ Then a pause. "_Mako, why are they waking up?! _What's wrong with them? Make them wake up!"

Karu grins, shoving his hands into his pockets and fingering the six yuans that he'd scavenged from the family of four. As he strolls off into the dark night while Mako and Bolin's sobs and the scent of smoke fills the empty air around him, he can't help but wonder if there were any bars open at this time of night.

Six yuans had to be enough to buy him a drink. It just had to.

He doesn't know if he has it in him to murder another family tonight.

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	2. An Offer You Can't Refuse

**Wow. I did not expect this fic to get such a warm welcome! :) Thank you to Bolinlover123, Cadyn Brewer-Sidelia Miller, gustly and sft425 for your favorites, Bolinlover123 and sft425 for your follows, and karanathefirebender, my temporary infinity, and Bolinlover123 for your reviews. I appreciate every one of you more than words can say.**

**Updates might be far spread out after this one—high school is really wearing me out. As for readers of The Other Side of Me and Illogically Logical, you might be waiting a little bit for the next chapters too. Sorry. :( But I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll try to update as much as I can. Hopefully the chapters will end up being longer than this one is.**

**Warning: There will be child abuse, gang violence, mild language and other triggering themes throughout this, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't feel obligated to read on. I will take no offence whatsoever.**

**B, this one's for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Korra, but I do own my original characters.**

Age of Innocence by boasamishipper

_It's alright, just wait and see  
>Your string of lights is still bright to me<br>Oh, who you are is not where you've been  
>You're still an innocent, you're still an innocent<em>

_Did some things you can't speak of  
>But at night you live it all again<br>You wouldn't be shattered on the floor now  
>If only you had seen what you know now then…<em>

_Taylor Swift "Innocent"_

**163 AG**

Bolin's only nine, but he knows more about the real world around him than most adults do. He knows how to survive on nothing more boiled water and pine needles when the weather drops below zero and your spit freezes before it hits the sidewalk. He knows which areas of the city are safe, and which alleys and streets to avoid unless one had a sudden desire for a hole in their gut by a Red Monsoon. He knows that his parents were killed by a firebender right in front of him, and he won't ever see them again. He knows that he'll never be viewed as anything other than a street urchin.

He knows more than a boy of his age should ever know.

But sometimes it's the things that he's not aware of that bother him the most. He doesn't know if he'll live to see his tenth birthday. He doesn't know whether the Triads will gut him and Mako for something as trivial as having their shirts untucked—or for something even worse than that.

When Bolin doesn't know where Mako is, his heart beats heavily and his stomach shoots up to his throat. The worry of wondering if his brother—the only family he has left—will survive sometimes makes Bolin throw up from anxiety. He tries really, really hard not to worry, because the last time he'd thrown up in front of Shin, the man had spanked him so hard that stars twinkled in his vision for three days.

(His backside had hurt for far longer—but he'd never told a soul.)

"Rocky?" Bolin looks up as he hears his new nickname, and Shin approaches him, hands stuffed in his pocket and a cigar dangling at the corner of his mouth. His eyes aren't bloodshot, so he's not drunk. And Bolin hasn't done anything to warrant a punishment recently, and Mako never has, so what's going on? "Yeah, it is ya! Been lookin' all over for ya. Where've ya been?" His chuckle sends shivers down Bolin's spine, and the scent of tobacco smoke and alcohol nearly makes him throw up.

"I'm…waiting for M-Mako," Bolin whispers before coughing and straightening up. He had to be a man—he was in the Triple Threat Triads. He couldn't cringe over something this insubstantial. "Do—do you know where Mako is, Shin?"

"Not a clue," Shin says, clucking his tongue. Bolin can taste his dinner from two days ago creeping up the back of his throat, and wonders for the thousandth time if Mako had just gotten up and left him. He couldn't have, though—they'd promised to stick together after Momma and Poppa had been killed. "Say, kid—how old are you now?"

Bolin feels like it's a trick question, but he answers truthfully. "I'm n-nine, but I'll be ten in a few months, S-Shin." Then, because his curiosity gets the better of him, he asks, "Why?"

Shin clears his throat. "Come and sit with me for a sec, Rocky." He sits down on a bench and leans against the wall of the warehouse, smoking his cigar like nothing is going on, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Bolin wishes sometimes that Mako would be as carefree as Shin was, sometimes. But he loves his brother—even if he _does_ still make him eat his vegetables and take a bath whenever they find a decent water source. Shin keeps trying to slip him some angel dust and sips of booze whenever he thinks that Mako isn't looking.

But Mako's not here now to protect him, so he has to protect himself. "Okay." He sits down on the bench, and sits as far away from Shin as he can without falling off. "What's up?" Bolin asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat. It's really Mako's, but they're both so skinny that the jacket hangs on both of them like they're coat racks.

With their meager wages, it's not like they can afford a new coat anyways. Poppa's scarf does the trick just fine.

Shin holds out his cigar, which has chew marks on the end of it. "Wanna puff, kid?" he asks, and Bolin almost reaches out for it, but reprimands himself for it. _What would Mako think? _"It'll give ya some color in your cheeks."

"No, thank you," he says, remembering his manners. Momma would be proud—or at least the fuzzy image that he has of her would be.

He likes to think that wherever she and Poppa are, they're still proud of him and Mako.

"_Come here, Bolin, want to spend some time with your favorite momma?"_

_He giggles, because it's just so funny. "You're my only momma, Momma!" Hana picks him up, and he nuzzles against her face. "I love you, Momma."_

"_I love you too, my little darling."_

And he still loves her too.

"Anyways," Shin says, popping the cigar back into his mouth and taking a long puff of air, blowing out smoke like a dragon. "Rocky, I got an offer for you. You're nine now, and it's 'bout time that you started pulling your weight around here and help your fellow Triads out."

Bolin's eyes go wide, and his stomach clenches. "W-what? But S-Shin, I've—I don't even got my bending yet. And M-Mako—"

"What about him?" Shin counters. "Please. He'd be happy that you'd finally be helping us out around here. Don't you think it's exhaustin' for the boy to be putting clothes on your back and dumplings on the table twenty-four/seven? Ya gotta stop being such a burden to Sizzles and pick up the slack. Sooner or later he's gonna leave ya like all the older sibs do. My bro did—he didn't look back. Mako will too."

"That's a lie!" Bolin shouts, standing up. His fists are clenched, and the smug grin on Shin's face says everything. Spirits, he wants to hit that zozzled moron where it counts—finally put some of Mr. Zolt's grudging lessons to use. "Mako _loves_ me. He'll never leave me and I'm never gonna leave him. Not ever." He makes a noise in the back of his throat and snuggles into the collar of his coat. "Nuh, uh."

"Well, kid, then you gotta help us out around here!" Shin says slowly, as if Bolin is stupid. He's not—at least not stupid enough to listen to Shin. "Pull your weight around here, Rocky, for the love of Tue and La." The smoke is almost enveloping both of them when Shin says, "Mr. Big Shot's organizing a rumble tonight against the Red Monsoons. Hakka and his drooling drongos are gonna be there. If you fight along with the rest of us, you'll make a few yuans—enough to maybe buy your brother a new scarf and some better coats for you both."

"Mako doesn't need a new scarf. It's Poppa's. And we don't need any winter clothes either—we're just fine." If there's one thing that he prides himself on, it's his stubbornness. Mako says it comes in handy in certain situations. Bolin wonders if this conversation qualifies.

"Oh, excuse me, Your Honor," Shin says, his eyes widening comically and he pretends to look around. "Lemme see." He pokes at Bolin's coat, and Bolin slides away from him. "You obviously don't need winter clothes, right? Would the representative from the great state of Denial please stand up and refute this?"

Bolin hates when they use words that he doesn't now—when they talk like schoolteachers, or even worse, like the fuzz. He knows that he's being made fun of. He can't take this anymore. "But Mako—"

"Mako doesn't ever have to know," Shin says smoothly, like he's spreading butter on a piece of toast. Spirits, they do call him the persuasive one for a reason. "It'll just be for one night, kid—"

"Don't call me a kid!" Bolin yells at Shin, and the man almost looks taken aback. "I'm nine years old; I'm not a baby anymore—" He's not a baby! Why is Shin talking down to him? He may be nine, but he'd not stupid. He knows the dangers of the world, and the number one danger on the list is Mako finding out that he'd done something dangerous.

"Then start acting like a man!" Shin snaps, losing his cool as he tosses his cigar to the side. "Do some real work for once in your life, you little shit, unless you're too much of a yellow belly to do so and want Mako to work himself to the bone—"

"Shut up!" Bolin says, and repeats it again, hoping he can drown out Shin's annoying voice. "Shut up shut up shut _up_!"

"So will you do it?" Shin asks, and cuts right to the heart of the matter. Bolin actually stops in his tracks and thinks about it. "Prove me wrong, bucko. Show me that you're a man. Because with the way you've been actin', I just don't believe you."

_What's the worst thing that can happen? Shin will be there, and Mako will be proud of me for getting more money…_

_But I can't. I'm not big enough, I can't even bend yet._

_They'll protect me._

_But…but what if something bad happens?_

_The look on Mako's face will be worth it when I give him the money, won't it? He'll be so happy, maybe we'll even have enough to buy a marzipan cake and eat the whole thing! Spirits, that'll be great._

"Will—is it worth it?" Bolin whispers, sniffling in fear. Spirits, he wants Mako to comfort him now. He wants his Momma and Poppa.

He's only nine. He can't do this.

But it's a brave new world, and he has to. He's not an innocent little boy anymore—he has to make a living.

Shin nods, as if to say 'of course'. "Do you doubt me, Rocky? You're old enough, no one's gonna find out. Meet me by on Badgermole Avenue at eleven—unless you're too much of a yellow belly and are gonna go crying to Mako—"

"No!" Bolin says sharply. "No. I'll do it."

Shin raises an eyebrow and pats Bolin's shoulder. "Atta boy, Rocky," he says approvingly. "Like I said, meet me on Badgermole Avenue. Bring bandages and some meds. Spirits knows we're gonna end up needing it—or we'll be the one's pissing all over Hakka's medical insurance."

Bolin laughs along with Shin, even if he'd not quite sure what the older man is talking about. "I'll be there," he promises. "And I _promise_ not to tell Mako."

Shin whacks him on the back appreciatively, and Bolin nearly keels over on the spot. His backside still hurts from where Mr. Zolt had whipped him last month. Mako had given the man a piece of his mind, and Mr. Zolt had never touched him again. "Atta boy," he repeats. "You're a good kid, Rocky. I'll see you there."

(*) (*)

"Shin says that he wants me to go out with him tonight," Bolin announces, and Mako looks up so fast from his bowl of stew that he starts choking. Bolin leaps around and whacks him on the back. "Are you okay?" he asks quickly, not meaning to frighten his brother. _Then again, he's gonna be a lot more scared if he finds out just _what _I'm doin' with Shin tonight._

"F-fine," Mako gasps out, his eyes streaming with unshed tears as he spits the beef stew back into the bowl. "What do you mean you're going out with Shin tonight? Where's he taking you?"

"Um…" Bolin struggles to remember the white lie that he'd thought up—an alias, Mr. Zolt calls it—while walking home to their alleyway. "I dunno," he finally says. "Just that he wants me to look over some people—I'm working security, I think?"

"Working security?" Mako looks like he's going to have a heart attack. "Why? Shin knows that that's my job—what's he want you working security for? Bo, you can't go, I'll do it instead—"

"No!" Bolin says loudly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can do it, I ain't—I'm not a baby! I can work security if I want to." He doesn't mention that Shin had said that he needed to start pulling his weight around the Triads, or else Mako will leave him. "And I wanna—I wanna help out around here."

"Bo, working security is really dangerous! There are bad people there and they might hurt you." Mako's voice goes low and kind of scares him. "I couldn't…I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you, bro."

Bolin almost cracks then and there, almost tells his big brother everything. But he can't. Mako's been protecting him for the last three years straight, ever since Momma and Poppa were killed. It's about time that he shows some 're-tree-bue-shun', which is a big word that Mr. Zolt sometimes says. "Nothing will happen to me!" Bolin says, trying to soothe Mako like his big brother does when Bolin has nightmares. "Shin will be there—he's gonna walk me to Badgermole Avenue at eleven. Nothing's gonna happen to me, big bro. I pinky promise."

Mako grimaces, showing that he's not happy about this sudden turn of events, but Bolin knows that he can't do anything about it—no more than he can block out the sun or bring their parents back. "Okay," he finally says. "But there are rules. I want you to stay safe—to be careful. If Shin says to stick around and you think it's too dangerous, then I want you to disregard whatever Shin says to you and come straight home, got it? Don't go anywhere with anyone, and if the cops show up, I want you to run away like your hair is on fire. Do you get it, Bo?"

Bolin nods, smiling because he finally feels useful. He's going to make some money tonight, and he finally won't feel useless anymore. Mako will be proud of him, so proud when he sees the bundle of yuans that he'll bring home after the rumble. "I get it, I get it," he says, nodding again to show that he understands. "I love you, big brother."

"Love you back, little brother," Mako answers immediately, grinning for the first time. "Hey, cop a squat, Bo, your stew's getting cold. You can't do security on an empty stomach."

Bolin gives him a playful salute and a toothy grin. "Sir, yes, sir!" he says, pretending to be like one of Mr. Zolt's new initiates that he and Mako had seen several times in the Triad warehouse. "Whatever you say, sir!"

Mako rolls his eyes and leans over to ruffle Bolin's messy hair. "Sit down and eat, squirt," he orders with a grin of his own. "You need to get yourself ready."

And Bolin shovels down forkfuls of the stew like it's the last meal to acknowledge him for twenty million years, knowing that when Shin comes for him, he has to be ready. He has to look tough, with bandaged hands and a mean look on his face and a give-'em-trouble attitude. He has to be ready to prove that he's not a baby anymore.

He has to be ready to show them that his age of innocence is over and done with.

**Okayokayokay. I **_**promise**_** that the real meat of this fic will start with the next chapter. In the meantime, my dear readers, I hope you enjoyed this enough to give me a favorite, a follow, or a review!**

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	3. The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

**Thank you to Cheyla, karanathefirebender, Bolinlover123, and TheEvilMelonLord for your reviews, karanathefirebender and Nothing Even Matters for your follows, and karanathefirebender for your favorite. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to say something about this little fic of mine.**

**I'm back to updating! I've finally found time in my schedule to write again—so expect a lot more chapters coming up soon, my dear readers. I'm sorry to keep you guys all waiting for so long: so here you go! The main plotline of the story finally kicks off here, and, as is custom with my fics, I think you're probably going to kill me by the end.**

**Let's get on with it, shall we? :)**

**Warning: There will be child abuse, gang violence, mild language and other triggering themes throughout this, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't feel obligated to read on. I will take no offence whatsoever.**

**B, this one's for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Korra, but I do own my original characters.**

Age of Innocence by boasamishipper

_I still remember the world  
>From the eyes of a child<br>Slowly those feelings  
>Were clouded by what I know now<em>

_Where has my heart gone?  
>An uneven trade for the real world<br>Oh I…I want to go back to  
>Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all<em>

_Evanescence "Field of Innocence"_

**163 AG**

Just like he'd promised, Shin is waiting for Bolin right underneath a street lamp on Badgermole Avenue, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers. "Didn't think you'd make it, Rocky," he says, his words sounding funny—Bolin can't help but wonder if he'd taken drugs before the rumble. Lots of the Triad Initiates do that because Mr. Zolt keeps saying that it's the only way to ever clear your mind. But Mako says to not to, and Bolin doesn't. Besides, the smell of the sweaty joints being passed around the inside of the warehouse is enough to put him off drugs for life. "Thought you'd chicken out."

"Well, I'm here," Bolin says, trying to sound brave. He'd even brought some bandages like Shin had asked him to—even if they were kind of pathetic, just scraps torn from a blanket. But he's ready to prove himself: he's ready to prove that he's done with being an innocent little boy. He's a big boy now. He's _nine_, and he may not be a bender (but he will be _someday_, he knows it! He's gonna be the bestest in the world, just like Poppa had been), but he can still fight. "Where's it gonna be, Shin?"

Shin jerks his chin in a vaguely southeastern direction. "Vacant lot over yonder," he explains, taking one hand out of his pocket and pointing. If Bolin squints, he can _just_ see that some people are building up a fire, but it's so far away that the bonfire might as well be a star. "You ready to fight in the rumble, kid?"

"Yes, sir!" Bolin affirms, even if he's not sure about it. He knows that he can't just chicken out now—Mako wouldn't, so neither will he. "I'm ready."

Shin chuckles and begins walking, and Bolin jogs after him, trying to keep up with the man's long strides. "Then move your ass, Rocky. Spirits. Triple Threats are already waitin' for us over there—we're ready for some real good bop-action." Bolin knows that a bop-action means the same thing as a rumble, but only the Red Monsoons refer to rumbles as bop-actions. Why is Shin using Red Monsoon slang all of a sudden? _The Red Monsoons don't own words, _he chastises himself. _It ain't so awkward. _"It'll be a doozy for sure: at least twenty of us on twenty of them."

"Is Mr. Hakka there?"

"You bet your ass he's there, and nineteen other drongos of his are too." Shin spits a wad of tobacco on the sidewalk, and Bolin barely manages to move out of the way in time. "You're gonna be one of the youngest, though."

Well, _that's_ not good. Bolin's eyebrows scrunch together. "Why?"

"Because Hakka's youngest drongo is only ten," Shin says, "but he ain't too fast. None too smart either. I think the only reason the Shark Rat keeps him on is because they're kin: second cousins twice removed or some shit like that. You should be fine, Rocky. No worries."

Just from the way Shin says it, Bolin gets nervous real fast. But he hides it as best as he can.

They make it to the vacant lot in less than two minutes, where Mr. Zolt and Two-Toed Ping and Mr. Viper and all of the others are waiting for them. They're all stripped down into their trousers and combat boots, and Bolin wonders if he should take off his shirt too. But no one's looking at him funny, so he keeps it on.

"Bolin!" says one of the younger number-runners. He knows him pretty well: Mako runs errands with him. Bolin thinks that his real name is Li, but Mr. Zolt calls him Kush because of his marijuana addiction. "You're here too?" Kush has the tense, hungry look of an alley owl-cat that is gained from being in the Triads practically since birth. Bolin doubts he looks nearly as tough as Kush does, but he probably will in a few years.

He nods and lines up next to the other boy. "Yep. I figured it was about time I started payin' back my dues."

Kush looks like he's about to respond when a sudden hush goes over the Triad Initiates as Hakka steps forward, two men flanking him on both sides. Hakka is about thirty, last Bolin had checked, and he looks truly terrifying. (According to Shin, Hakka had been the youngest person to ever be arrested for murder in Republic City. Bolin doesn't doubt it.) He has messy black hair, ice blue eyes, and a long scar that stretches from his forehead to his chin. Rumor had it that the Shark Rat had gotten it in his first rumble, where an Agni Kai had belted him with a broken beer bottle. The Agni Kai had been lucky to escape with most of his limbs intact.

Hakka sticks out his hand, and Mr. Zolt shakes it. "Let's get the rules straight," says one of Hakka's bodyguards. "Nothing but our fists, no bending, and the first one to run loses. We savvy?"

Mr. Zolt laughs. "You're savvy alright, Shark Rat," he says, addressing Hakka. "Hope your medical insurance covers this."

Hakka gives him a thin chuckle. "Same to you, Lightning Bolt."

After a moment, Mr. Zolt straightens his shoulders and Bolin can see the muscles in his back flex. "I'll take you on, Hakka," he says. "Whenever you're ready."

Bolin can hear Kush's breathing quicken from next to him. "Shit's about to go down," the older boy murmurs.

Judging by the nods around them, the Triple Threats agree. Mr. Zolt hardly _ever _fights in rumbles. Bolin has no idea why he wants to fight Hakka all of a sudden. _He's gonna be regretting this in the morning—I will too, most likely._

Something that reminds Bolin of a smile—but it's weird kind of smile, kind of like a smile that an owl-cat has before it eats its dinner—crosses Hakka's face, and he accepts Zolt's challenge. The two men move around each other in a circle under the light of the moon and the bonfire in the background, obviously sizing each other up and categorizing the other's weaknesses. Their hatred for each other is obvious—they look at each other in the same way that Mako looks at cops.

And then one of the Red Monsoons coughs, and Hakka turns away from Mr. Zolt for a brief second to see who it had been—and Mr. Zolt swings a meaty fist directly at Hakka's jaw, sending the man reeling backwards for a moment before his eyes harden and he charges at Zolt, causing the leader of the Triple Threat Triads to fall to the ground with a thud.

Shin and Two-Toed Ping yell a battle cry that Bolin can't decipher, and the Triple Threats run at the Red Monsoons. Bolin doesn't know what to do, but the question is quickly solved when someone runs directly at him, knocking him to the ground. He rolls to avoid getting kicked in the stomach, and pulls the Red Monsoon's leg so they're both on the ground.

Kush is next to him, pulling the hair of whoever was on top of him and screaming bloody murder. Mr. Viper is taking on three guys at once, and Shang, one of the number-runners, slugs a Red Monsoon in the face so hard that Bolin swears he can see a tooth or two fly out of the man's mouth.

The Red Monsoon kicks him hard in the ribs, and Bolin yelps, his hands flying out to the man's neck, squeezing it tightly. He hangs on despite the rival gang member's gurgling and kicking at him, and it _hurts so bad_ that Bolin just wants to let go and be done, but he can't. They can't lose because of him.

They just _can't._

He _has_ to hold on. There isn't another option.

So he holds on.

Kush tackles Bolin's guy, and all three of them end up rolling on the concrete gasping, swearing and punching each other. "Fuck it," gasps the stranger as Bolin knees him where it counts. "Oh, Spirits, ow! Get off, damnit!"

"You don't mess with our turf and walk away unscathed!" Kush shouts, and pulls Bolin to his feet as both of them kick the Red Monsoon in the head. "Yeah, you little pisser. Get some!"

And then a piercing whistle blows through the air, causing everyone, fighting or not, to freeze. Bolin wants to clamp his hands over his ears, but can't muster the strength to do so. _This is bad,_ he thinks.

"Stop what you're doing!" bellows a male voice. "This is the Republic City Police Department! Put your hands on top of your head!"

Bolin backs up, absolutely terrified. Kush looks like he's about to vomit as at least seventeen metalbending officers show up out of practically nowhere, the whistle still blowing and sirens are beginning to screech. Mr. Viper is laughing, and six Red Monsoons run for it, which makes Bolin feels a bit better because they've won the rumble now, but a win isn't any good if they're going to be thrown into jail because of it.

Or worse, an orphanage.

"They're running!" screams Shin, sounding joyful. "Look at the dirty sons of bitches run, boys!"

"This ain't over!" Hakka calls, sounding strangled. Judging by the chokehold Mr. Zolt has him in, it's not surprising. "Hey, you listen here, this ain't over!"

"Yeah, it is!" shouts the same police officer, and Bolin is suddenly grabbed from behind by one of the cops. His hands are being shoved behind his back, and Bolin is thrashing and screaming because this can't be happening, they've just won, and _where's Mako when he needs him?_

"Mako!" Bolin howls, sobbing. "I want Mako! Mako! Help me, help me!"

"Shut up!" He's not sure who says it first, Mr. Zolt, Kush or the police officer that had grabbed him, but that doesn't matter. He keeps shouting his brother's name anyways.

He's being picked up against his will, and he lashes out, kicking the police officer behind him but much to his surprise, the man doesn't let him go. "Let me go!" he insists. "I want Mako! _Mako_! Save me, please! Let me go!"

But Mako doesn't come. For the first time in years, when Bolin calls for his brother, Mako doesn't come. He doesn't come because he's safe in their quarters in the Triple Threat warehouse, blissfully unaware of just what's going on here and now.

He thinks that it's at this very moment that he becomes more terrified than before, but his fear doesn't keep him from thrashing and screaming his older brother's name. "Mako!"

"Someone shut him up!"

"Pleasure's all mine," the police officer says as he tosses Bolin into the back of a truck, that's halfway filled with kids that are all scrambling to get out. It smells of blood and sweat and weed, and it takes everything Bolin has not to vomit on the spot.

"Let us out!" shouts one of the boys, and the others take up the chant. "Let us out, let us out!"

"Take 'em away, Jinn," orders the head police officer, and the truck starts speeding up down the street, out of the vacant lot where Mr. Zolt and Shin are making a run for it into an alleyway, where Hakka is waterbending two of the police officers backwards, and unconscious gang members lie prone on the concrete. Bolin can see that some police officers are tying Mr. Viper's hands behind his back, but the man is still laughing, like the entire thing is some minor inconvenience. For him it probably is—he's probably bribed some cops with angel dust to let the adults out on a ten yuan bail. It's happened before.

But the boys under sixteen—they can't be helped. They're still under the jurisdiction of the law, and the Triads can't break it to help them. Dear Spirits, they're all screwed.

He wants Mako.

Bolin can't help himself anymore. The situation is too horrible to ignore and his mind is swirling, so he throws up. The boys around him yell in disgust, all scrambling backwards away from the puddle of sick in the middle of the floor, and he thinks that one of the Triple Threat Initiates shoves him forward, causing him to slam his head on something hard.

_This can't be happening…_

The world swirls around him into a mass of colors and red mist, and he finds himself swaying on his feet. Blobs of faces and visions of his brother admonishing him and his parents' bodies lying still on the sidewalk dance in circles in his vision. _This can't be happening. I want Mako. This—it can't be happening._

One of the boys—Bolin thinks that it's Kush—suddenly cries, "Spirits, catch the kid!"

_This can't be happening._

And then everything goes black.

**Hee-hee-hee. And so it begins. :) My dear readers, please begin to prepare your feels for the next chapter—I would if I were you! There's definitely a boatload of angst and hurt/comfort and drama on the horizon that'll be posted sooner than you think.**

**I hope you enjoyed this enough to give me a favorite, a follow, or a review!**

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


	4. The Worthless Daydreamers

**Thank you to karanathefirebender, StoriesAreMagic and Bolinlover123 for your reviews, StoriesAreMagic and SnappleSauce for your follows, and Pedro-IS-Madi12 and Red Ethel Flint for your favorites. I really appreciate you guys taking the time to say something about this little fic of mine. :)**

**Hey, everyone! I'm finally back with another installment of Age of Innocence. Don't worry, I learned my lesson—no more awful cliffies, and definitely not as long of a wait for my next chapter! Now all we have to see is how long I can manage to stick to that promise, and how long it'll be until I update again. My main focus for a while will be on Those in Peril on the Sea and Illogically Logical, but I promise that I will not forget about Age of Innocence. Pinky swear, and you can hold me to that.**

**Let's get on with it, shall we? :)**

**Warning: There will be child abuse, gang violence, mild language and other triggering themes throughout this, so if that's not your cup of tea, please don't feel obligated to read on. I will take no offence whatsoever.**

**B, this one's for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Korra, but I do own my original characters.**

Age of Innocence by boasamishipper

_I'm not complainin' now, you understand  
>You get to sing and dance all day<br>Like children play  
>But it's time to act like a man<em>

_Bein' a man means responsible_  
><em>You hear it wherever you go<em>  
><em>Nothing is ever impossible<em>  
><em>Something inside tells me so<em>

_And I know what I know…_

_Neil Diamond "Act Like a Man"_

**163 AG**

When he comes around, he feels like he's stuck on a boat in the middle of a hurricane. He tries to think, wondering where he is because whatever he's lying on doesn't feel like his cot in the room he and Mako share, and he can't smell Mako making tea, but there's a high-pitched screaming noise that keeps his thoughts from forming into concise answers. He can't tell whether or not the sound is in his head or if he's dreaming it up.

Something cold and wet trickles down his forehead, and Bolin nearly moans in relief because it feels _really_ good against his hot skin. Someone is saying something, but he can't quite make it out. He swallows a groan and squirms, trying to get into a more comfortable position, when he hears a strangely familiar voice saying, "Are you coming around, kid?"

Bolin doesn't know why, but he opens his eyes, and discovers that it's just as dark in wherever they are than it is with his eyes closed. _This isn't right, _he realizes. _What's going on? Where am I?_ "Where…?" he asks hoarsely, not able to speak without his throat feeling like it's been set on fire. His eyes adjust, and he blinks at the person sitting stock-still beside him, limply holding a wet rag—the person looks like he's been poleaxed. "Kush?"

"In the badly-bruised flesh," quips the older boy, tossing the rag to the side. "Are you okay, kid?"

"I'm okay…" Something's wrong. Bolin can't figure out what, though. "Am I sick?"

"No." Kush sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like Mako does when he gets headaches. "Spirits, I hope not. You got shoved forward and hit your head on the wall of the truck. Any of this ringing a bell, kid?"

Bolin's hand flies to his forehead and he winces, the events of the rumble and being thrown into the truck coming back to him all at once. What had happened to Mr. Viper and Mr. Zolt? Had the Red Monsoons succeeded in running away? He had so many question for Kush that he's not even sure where he should begin. "Where are we?"

"In a cell at the police station," Kush answers, sitting on the floor and gesturing around him. Bolin makes the connection between the cell bars and the drab gray walls. "The others are another one. The fuzz let me stay with you."

Bolin gasps and sits up in surprise. "Wait, K-Kush, where's Mr. Zolt? Where's Shang and the others? What happened to them? Did they get arrested? What's—"

"Hey, hold on, calm down, kid," Kush says, shoving Bolin back down. "Don't hurt yourself, okay?"

"Where's Mako? Is Mako coming for me?" Bolin can't even stomach the thought of Mako not coming for him. Imagining the scenarios where his brother doesn't come are terrifying beyond belief, and they aren't helping his headache any. "Kush, he's coming for me, right?"

"Will you just shut up and listen to me?" Kush snaps, effectively shutting Bolin up. "Spirits, pipe down, kid. Do you want me to explain or not?" Without waiting for an answer, the older boy continues. "Look. We got taken away from the rumble. The adults, like Zolt and Viper and them, they got out on bail. Red Monsoons got tossed and no one gives two shits about them anyways, yeah? But like, we're here. We're under sixteen, so—"

"So we can't get bailed out."

"Yeah, that's right," Kush agrees, nodding but doesn't look like he's very happy about the situation. Bolin can relate—his stomach is tying itself into knots just thinking about it. "Point is that all of the fuzz are sitting around with their thumbs up their butts in a conference room trying to think of what they want to do with street mongrels like us." Bolin doesn't quite know what the word 'mongrel' means, but he doubts it's a good word. But who's going to wash Kush's mouth out with soap here? Hopefully not him. "Shang and the others are in another cell, they weren't exactly clean on staying with you after you threw up all over them."

"What about Mako?" Bolin says again for the millionth time. "Kush, isn't Mako going to come and get me?"

Kush looks sad for a second and looks away from Bolin. He bites his thumbnail and chews on it for a while, glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him. "I don't know, kid," he says sadly. "I just—I just don't know."

Bolin's breaths come in gasps, and his head starts spinning and the world is going completely crazy because there's no way that this can be happening because Mako is coming for him, he _is, _Bolin isn't going rot in a prison cell forever and oh Spirits, _this cannot be happening or so help him_—

"Kid!" Kush kneels next to him. "Kid, calm the shit down, okay? Okay? Look, your brother might be coming for you, I don't know…did he know about you going to the rumble last night? Bolin!"

Bolin shakes his head numbly. "No—no," he whispers and his shoulders shake as he buries his face in his hands, trying not to cry, because this cannot be happening. "K-Kush, what's g-gonna happen to us?"

Kush sighs. "Oh, Spirits, kid," he says. "If I knew, don't you think I'd have told you?"

The door of their cell suddenly slams open, and Kush leaps to his feet. Bolin wants to, but he has a feeling that if he tries to get to his feet his head will break open from the pain, or Kush will shove him back down. There are two police officers standing in the doorway—one is a man, with a gray uniform with black piping, two holsters on each side of his belt, and he has a stern face. Bolin flinches as the woman, who looks around thirty or forty years old steps forward. She frightens him a bit, because despite the black uniform with the gold piping that marks her as the Chief of Police, there are two thin scars on her right cheek that look fresh, like she'd recently gotten them in a horrible fight.

Bolin can't help but wonder if she'd gotten scarred in a fight breaking up a Triad rumble.

"Sergeant Aiki, are these two boys the ones from the tussle last night?" she asks the other man, placing her hand on her hips. Bolin can tell that she doesn't believe that he and Kush are in a rumble—they don't look particularly threatening now, after all.

Sergeant Aiki nods. "Yes, Chief, they are. Detective Jinn apprehended them at the rumble last night, along with twenty other boys and the leaders of the Triple Threats and Red Monsoons."

She raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Must've been a very high-class rumble, then, if Hakka and Zolt bothered to show up." The Chief slowly approaches them, and Bolin scoots backwards, leaning into Kush, who—much to Bolin's surprise—doesn't push him away, but puts a steady arm around him. Maybe they both need comfort in times like these. "You two have names?"

"My name is Bolin, ma'am," Bolin says, because he always introduces himself to new people. Momma had ingrained in him the urge to always be polite, no matter what.

On the other hand, Kush remains silent and looks away, trying to remain unseen and unheard, like if he does it enough then he'll melt away entirely. Bolin remembers that Kush isn't good around police officers. Then again, it's a miracle that Bolin's words are even coming out right—he's scared out of his mind.

The Chief notices Kush blocking everyone out and turns to Bolin. "Does he have a name too?" she asks.

"My name's Kush," Kush mutters.

"Your name is Kush?" The other police officer, Sergeant Aiki, gives Kush a mean laugh—kind of like Mr. Zolt does when he hears a stupid idea. "You expect us to believe that your parents named you after a drug? Were they high when they had you?"

"I ain't got no parents," Kush retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I don't think my name is any business to some shitty cinder dick like you."

"What did you call me?" Aiki angrily yells, then comes forward, pushes Bolin away and grabs Kush by the lapels of his tattered brown shirt. Bolin is frozen with fear, and he can't make himself move to help. Kush looks blasé as he stares into the indignant face of the sergeant. "What the hell did you say to me, you piece of pond scum?"

"Sergeant Aiki, hold your tongue!" barks the Chief, sending the man a death glare. "Release the kid. Now. That's an order." Aiki releases Kush, and both of the boys give a sigh of relief. "Do you have a real name, Kush?"

Kush grunts something that sounds vulgar under his breath before muttering, "My real name's Li." _Aha, _Bolin thinks, feeling triumphant, _so I _was_ right._ "I go by Kush." His tone dares either the Chief or the sergeant to call him his given name—like he's threatening disembowelment if they call him 'Li'.

The Chief nods. "How old are you two?"

"Nine," Bolin whispers.

"Thirteen," Kush says, spitting out his age like it physically hurts him.

"You two brothers or something?"

"We're friends," Kush says before Bolin can say something akin to 'he's not my brother, Mako is, and Mako is gonna come for me'. "We're just friends. Now why the hell do you two care?" He sniffs. "Him and I are just a couple of Triple Threat Triad members. Low-class. So why are you wasting your time on us?"

"We're wasting our time on you because we can't let you live your lives like this," the Chief says brusquely. "By the order of the United Republic, you need to be doing something useful, and since you're contributing to public disorder, you need to be rehabilitated."

"So…" Bolin's throat becomes very dry again. "So—so you're gonna put us in jail?"

"No. You're minors, you can't be thrown in jail. That's why I asked you for your age—I needed to be sure." He understands. While Bolin looks younger than he is, Kush looks even older because of the harsh life he's had to lead. It's not a bad assumption to think that Kush is over sixteen years old. "I was going to separate you, but the kid's too young. He needs some stability, so I'm taking you to the Refuge for Abandoned Children."

"No. No! Do you mean the orphanage?" Bolin whispers in disbelief. He stands up. "No! No, you can't!"

"It's for the best, kid," the Chief says grimly, and Bolin can tell that she's sincere, but that doesn't make it any better for him and Kush, does it? "You'll have a roof over your heads, good food, protection—"

"Why the hell did you think we enlisted in the Triple Threat Triads, for shits and giggles?" Kush says incredulously. "They gave us _all_ of that—food, shelter, the whole shebang. Just let us go back to the Triads—we won't go to any more rumbles, ma'am, I swear to Tue and La, just don't send us to an orphanage."

"If I let you do that, you know how many other orphaned kids would have my hide for that?" The Chief doesn't wait for an answer. "All of them, Kush. I believe in treating everyone the same, and this is for the best. You and Bolin need this." She pauses. "And besides," she says, a hint of a smirk on her lips, "how do I know that you're not lying about not participating in any more rumbles?"

"I'm not," Kush insists. "I ain't lying, am I, kid?"

Bolin shakes his head. "No, he ain't—he isn't lying, Miss Chief."

The Chief shakes her head too. "I don't buy that. I can sense heartbeats—yours is moving a bit too fast for you to be telling the truth, kid." While Kush seems to ponder this, she continues, saying, "You need a family environment. This is the only orphanage in the city that isn't full to bursting right now."

Kush is silent. Bolin is too horrified to speak.

"Sergeant, escort them to the car," the Chief orders. "I'm sorry, boys."

"Bullshit," Kush spits, and grabs Bolin's hand as Sergeant Aiki leads the two boys out the door, and then through the police station. Bolin's never seen the inside of it before, only the outside, so he looks around and takes in the adults staring at him and Kush like they've never seen children before.

(Later, he will come to associate their awed looks with pity. And sometimes with disgust.)

They are taken to a car parked on the curb outside and buckled up securely in the backseats, while Sergeant Aiki sits up front and listens to weird music on the radio, involving something to do with girls and boys doing something that Bolin thinks is disgusting. Kush doesn't look like he cares, he keeps staring out the window like he wants to make a run for it.

Bolin wants to run away too.

The car passes through a gate in front of the orphanage, and Bolin listens to it clang shut as a man in a security uniform locks it. "It's for security," Sergeant Aiki vaguely explains as they park, exit the car and begin to walk up the front steps.

"That's real comforting, thanks," Kush says under his breath, and Bolin wonders if he's the only one who hears. As Bolin catches a glimpse of the tall fence behind him, he realizes that Kush thinks that the security isn't to protect the orphanage from outside threats.

Aiki opens the front door and Bolin is nearly bowled over by three boys chasing each other down the hallway, while noise erupts from every room in the orphanage. The entire place is gray and drab, no colors whatsoever. It feels strange, because even Bolin and Mako's room in the compound had been a little more colorful than this.

"Come on," Aiki says, gesturing for Kush and Bolin to walk forward, which they do. They walk in silence for a few moments until the police officer stops outside of a closed door and knocks. "Ma'am? I'm here with more kids!"

"Come in!" calls the person on the other side of the door, and Aiki opens the door, beckoning for the boys to follow him inside.

The room behind the door is obscenely small, like a coat closet or something. There is just enough room for a desk, two chairs in front of it, and two bookshelves on different sides of the room. Behind the desk sits an older woman with short graying hair, brown eyes, and frown lines etched on her face, making her look really old. She looks at them judgingly over a pair of spectacles, and Bolin shifts uncomfortably under her stern gaze.

"My name is Aiko Senbi," she says. "You may call me Mrs. Senbi, and use 'ma'am' when you are addressing me, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bolin says softly.

Mrs. Senbi shifts her gaze to Kush as Aiki departs from the room. "Do you speak?" she demands, then looks over at Bolin. "Can he talk, young man?"

"Only when he wants to, ma'am," Bolin says honestly, although he can't tell whether that's being cheeky or not. It's the truth, though.

Mrs. Senbi scoffs and stands up from her desk. "Come along," she says, although it feels like an order, and Bolin and Kush follow her down the hallway past rooms that are absolutely full to bursting with bunk beds and boys around their age. She points out a cafeteria, where they eat; a study room, for schoolwork—Bolin doesn't quite know what schoolwork entails, he's never had a day of school in his life—and many others.

"What's that one's name, young man?"

Bolin looks up, seeing Mrs. Senbi looking at him expectantly. The tips of his ears heat up as he remembers the police looking skeptical at the mention of Kush's name. What if she doesn't believe him? "His name is Kush," he says. "And my name is Bolin."

"Kush." Mrs. Senbi raises her eyebrows, looking suspicious—kind of like Mako does when Bolin pulls a trick on him sometimes. She turns to Kush. "Is that really your name, young man?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kush says sullenly.

"Is that your given name?" she inquires.

"No, ma'am. My given name is Li, but I prefer to go by Kush."

She snorts. "If you insist," Mrs. Senbi says graciously before indicating a room that they are in front of. Inside, Bolin can hear muffled conversations, swearing and crashes. It doesn't sound very safe. "This will be your room, you two. Dinner is in half an hour. You may wander the building if you wish, but if you are not in the cafeteria by seven o'clock precisely, then my security guards will come and find you." She checks her watch. "Go on, boys."

They enter and sit down on the only empty bunk bed in the entire room. The boys in the room pay them no attention—they're all busy squabbling over which station the radio has to be set at, and fists are flying. Bolin doesn't know whether he should tell them that violence is never the answer, but he doesn't feel qualified. After all, he had just spent the previous night beating up Red Monsoons in a rumble for sport.

"Well, this is a holy mess," Kush announces.

Bolin can't help but agree. "Do you think Mako will come get me?" he asks.

Kush glares at him, but the glare has no anger behind it. "I don't know, Bolin," he answers. "Soon, I hope. Just be patient, will you?"

"Okay." Bolin nods, wanting so badly to believe his friend, but he can't force himself to look at the bright side this time.

This time…the good might outnumber the bad.

**Oh, my boys…hate to say it, but Bolin's right. There's going to be a lot of bad stuff before the good will rise again. And don't write off Mrs. Senbi just yet—give her some time, and she might surprise you. :)**

**Sorry for the wait, you guys. I hope you enjoyed this enough to give me a favorite, a follow, or a review!**

**To be continued…**

**-Boa :)**


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